


When My Heart Is Lonely

by Hannyski



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Boy Zayn, M/M, sound of music au oops oops sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:33:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannyski/pseuds/Hannyski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>19 year old Liam Payne is looking for a way to fund a University course in Behavioural Psychology when he finds the advert for a job playing au pair to three kids. The money sounds too good to be true but it’s worth a shot and that’s how Liam ends up standing on the doorstep of one of the biggest mansions in Bradford, wearing a suit two sizes too big for him and an earnest smile that refuses to falter.</p>
<p>Zayn Malik is 17. Zayn Malik does not need a babysitter. Zayn Malik resents being called a kid. Zayn Malik is spiralling out of control.</p>
<p>Zayn Malik is the oldest sibling placed in Liam's charge.</p>
<p>Inevitably, they clash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raindrops on Roses

“So, that’s really all you need to know. You’ll drop the kids at school each morning, then you’re free to do whatever you want until 3:30. Zayn occasionally has a free period but he usually spends those studying. I work til quite late most nights and their father travels a lot, if you want to go out with friends then it’s probably best to give me a few days warning-“

“That won’t be a problem. Everything sounds great.”

“Excellent. Can you start tomorrow? I’ve got the guest wing all made up for you.”

Patricia Malik, is, quite frankly, terrifying, all hair extensions and perfume and bright red lips. 

Liam Payne is sitting opposite her at the foot of the longest dining table he’s ever sat at. He tweaks his red tie uncomfortably, pushes up the sleeves on his slightly too big suit and nods compliantly.

“Yeah, of course. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll get the children. You should meet them now. They didn’t react too well to their last nanny leaving, but I’m sure if you stick it out a couple of weeks, they’ll like you just as much.” Patricia reaches across the table and picked up a small bell, ringing it three times. Almost immediately, two young girls spill into the room, as though they’d been waiting outside the door the whole time. (They were.)

“Hi!” The older one said, flicking long, dark hair. “I’m Waliyha. I’m 11 and three quarters.” She smiles big at Liam, batting her eyes.

“You’re a man. And _young_. How can you be a nanny?” The other girl asks, receiving a shove from Waliyha. “Safaa. I’m 8… and a half.” She adds apologetically. 

Liam grins, thinking maybe, this won’t be so hard.

“I’m Liam! And I’m 19 and a quarter, and I’m your new au pair. Please don’t call me your nanny.” He offers a hand for them to shake and they both take it gladly.

“Where is your brother?” Patricia demands, interrupting the moment.

“He’s in his room.” Safaa supplies.

“Looking at those rude magazines I bet. I saw him the other day. The superheroes had _boobies_ and you could see their minki-“

“That’s enough!” Patricia rings the bell again in annoyance, and Liam can’t help but flinch. She turns to Liam with an acidic smile. “We use a bell system here. Three tolls to call the children in. Two for the staff… that’s you, the maid, the cook. And one for attention. I don’t like shouting in my house. _ZAYN. GET DOWN HERE. NOW._ ” 

Liam shrugs, trying not to smirk. He hears thudding down the stairs and then a tall, skinny boy careers in, brown eyes on fire.

“What?” He demands, arms folded.

“This is your new au pair.”

“I don’t need an au-pair. I’m seventeen.”

“That’s okay,” Liam jumps in. “We’ll be mates, yeah?”

“I’ve already got mates, thanks. I’m going out.” He’s gone before Patricia can close her long red talons around her bell.

“Okay, you can leave now, girls, go do your latin.”

“Latin?” Liam repeats.

“Yeah, they’re aiming to be fluent by the end of the year.”

Liam doesn’t say what he thinks – that Latin is a dead language. Instead, he takes the (slightly smaller) bell that she hands him, along with a house key, a car key and a pager.

“Any questions?” She asks, her eyes already on the door. “Because I have an appointment I need to get to.”

“On a Sunday afternoon?”

“Well, time stops for no man. And definitely no woman.”

“…No questions.”

“Excellent.” Liam’s starting to hate that word. “You can have today to sort out your room, settle in. Have the maid show you to your quarters. Two rings, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Liam nods, and then he’s alone, staring at the ornate bell between his fingers and giving it two short, loud shakes experimentally. Almost instantly, an old woman who talks in a thick Portuguese accent appears, barking: “you new nanny? I will show you room. Come.”

“Au pair, actually.” Liam corrects glumly, following her all the same.

His new bedroom is approximately the size of a tennis court. When the woman who introduced herself as May has left, he sinks onto the king sized bed and looks around, a little stunned. Pulling out his phone, he snaps a picture of the room and sends it to his best (and only) friend, Niall.

“New digs… pretty sick x x “

“Pls don’t say sick! Or digs! Miss ya already! I’ll have a pint for ya!” came the instant reply. Niall was loud and blonde and little, and pretty much the opposite of Liam, which is probably why they got on so well. (that, and the fact Niall had only just moved to Wolverhampton, and thus had never met Liam in his most awkward stage of awkward stages). Liam shuts his phone and stretches out flat on the bed, at a loss for what to do now. He didn’t really have a lot of stuff – just a suitcase with some clothes, some books, his laptop. Eventually he settled down to re-read one of his psychology books, yellow highlighter clutched in his hand.

Around 7pm he hears three tolls, followed by two tolls, and goes to investigate. The two girls are sitting side by side in the dining room, staring at the empty chairs and empty plates that surrounded them, as though the dancing candlestick from Beauty and the Beast was about to appear and present their dinner.

“Where’s Zayn?” Liam asks, settling into a free seat. “Your parents?”

The older girl, Waliyha, shrugs. “Dunno. They’re not often here for dinner. Zayn’ll be back before they are though, don’t worry.”

“They?” Liam repeats.

“Mum and Dad. It’s okay.”

“We got May and Cook and you now.” Safaa adds, smiling. The cook enters then, holding plates of steamed vegetables and chicken, which she places in front of the children. Liam pokes a carrot experimentally with his fork, before eating it.

“Mummy likes us to eat healthy on Sunday nights, because we have tennis training on Monday morning.”

“Do I need to drive you to that?” Liam asks, suddenly realising he didn’t know much about their schedules at all, past the vague plan Patricia had offered. Not for the first time, he felt completely out of his depth, being blinked at in confusion by two young girls who were now his responsibility.

“Oh no, the tutor comes here.” Waliyha laughs as though it would be absurd to not have tennis courts in the grounds of your house. Liam marvels at this for a moment, before attempting to further the conversation.

“So, do you like tennis?”

“Mummy likes tennis.” Safaa shrugs. “And we like mummy.”

Liam shrugs and finishes the rest of his meal in silence before realising that it must be his job to entertain the children until bed time. Shrugging, he lets them show him around the house, peering into rooms where the door is ajar and avoiding rooms where the doors are shut.

He reads to them from ‘The Magic Faraway Tree’ and is only slightly alarmed by a few of the characters. (Moonface? Saucepan Man?! They sound more like stoner superheroes than children’s story characters). Eventually, they fall asleep around 9pm, and Liam retreats to his quarters, settling down on his impossibly large and comfortable bed and cracking open another book.

The front door slams once at 9:13pm, once at 10:20pm and once at 10:57pm. 

Around 11:30pm, he hears a vehicle starting in the driveway, jarring him from his half-slumber. Dazed and slightly frustrated, he pads across the landing and down the hall to the closed door the girls identified as Zayn’s room. He knocks three times and hears a grunt from within. Satisfied, and believing he imagined the sounds, he returns to bed and falls asleep.

The next morning, Zayn looks at him from across the breakfast table with a split lip and a black eye, grabbing a banana and slamming out of the house before Liam has a chance to pick up his bag and his new car keys and chase him. Trailing behind, tugging two well-dressed girls fresh from a tennis lesson in his wake, he presses the unlock button on the key curiously. The range rover sitting on the long length of driveway winks its headlights invitingly.

Liam exhales. “Great. I’m officially a yummy mummy.”

He watches Zayn climb into the front seat, still glowering in his general direction. Checking the girls have all their things for school (not that he has any idea what that would consist of – he feels so out of his depth), he ushers them into the backseat, gets them belted up and slips into the driver’s seat, putting on his own seat belt and looking pointedly at Zayn.

“What, mate?” Zayn asks drily, fiddling with the collar on his leather jacket.

“Belt up.” Liam does his best to sound commanding. Zayn snorts. Waliyha sniggers. “I mean it. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Zaaaayn, I don’t wanna be lateeeeee.” Safaa whines from the backseat. Grunting in irritation, Zayn puts his seatbelt on, glaring all the while.

“Try and smile, yeah? It might never happen.” Liam offers hopefully.

“It already has.” Zayn says vaguely, pulling his phone out and texting furiously. After the girls get out at their school, silence falls uncomfortably.

“Right, where am I going now?”

“It’s just down here.” Zayn gestured, giving monosyllabic directions until they pulled up outside a fancy looking building with an abundance of pillars and gargoyles. “Cheers.”

Liam smiles. “I’ll pick you up at 3:30, yeah?” He confirms, looking at Zayn hopefully, trying not to let his eyes drop to Zayn's lip, which is now bleeding slightly.

“Nah, I have after school… Biology club.” Zayn shrugs. “I can walk. It’s not far.” He climbs out of the car and slams the door, starting in the direction of the gate.

“Zayn?” Liam calls, winding down the window with the touch of a button. Zayn turns around slowly, as if the act of doing so was one of the most taxing chores he’d ever been confronted with. “Like I said… I hope we can be friends.”

“Like I said, I don’t need a friend. Seeya Leo.”

“L- It’s Liam.”

Zayn’s already gone. Liam feels impossibly small. Zayn somehow reminds him of his old classmates, excluding him and ignoring him whenever possible. It wasn’t that they didn’t like him, and he bet Zayn didn’t not like him either – it was just that he wasn’t good enough to be picked up on his radar, not worth his time.

Zayn’s all mystery, skinny jeans that probably aren’t in keeping with the uniform the other students filing past are wearing, leather jackets and locked doors. Liam is hopelessly and horribly in too deep in this job, and he hasn't even been here 24 hours.

Liam’s never been more compelled by any one person in his life.

Curiosity curls around him and follows him all the way home and up the stairs and before he knows it he’s standing outside Zayn’s room with his hand on the doorknob, torn about how to proceed. Steeling himself, he turns it slowly, letting the door creak open. It’s a room only slightly bigger than his, and it looks even less lived in. The bed is made, a few books and CDs are shelved, an empty desk has a stack of papers on. It looked like a page from an Ikea catalogue, not like anyone actually _lived_ there. In fact, the only vaguely personal thing was an old Batman poster, framed. Liam approaches it and touches it, squinting.

It’s signed by Christopher Nolan.

Liam springs back, doing a double take, wiping his hands on his jeans nervously. 

At least he’s found something to bond with Zayn over. Feeling slightly guilty, he leaves again, careful to ensure everything is exactly how he left it.

He knows he's there alone, but he swears he can hear giggling coming from Zayn’s closet.


	2. A Drink with Jam and Bread

Unsettled by his earlier experience in Zayn’s bedroom, Liam goes to pick up the girls from school with a new resolve, dialling Zayn’s school on the way.

“Hiii, I just wanted to check what time the biology club finished tonight.”

“There must be some mistake, dear. The biology club meets on Thursday nights.”

“Oh, hmmm. Must’ve got my wires crossed.” Liam says quickly, thanking the receptionist before hanging up, a slight feeling of unease spreading through his stomach. Still, he forces a smile when he picks up the girls and follows Zayn’s instructions not to pick him up. The girls seem to act like this is normal, so he tries to relax.

Around 5pm, Zayn trudges in, shoes caked in mud and a smirk on his face. Liam looks up at him from the dining table where he’s helping Safaa with her homework and smiles back.

“Hey Zayn! How was Biology club?” He asks carefully, kicking the leg of the chair opposite him with the intention of offering it to Zayn. Zayn grunts in response, before adding, “got a lot of homework. Seeya at dinner.”

Liam tries to console his disappointment by telling himself that he wasn’t being lied to. Zayn was just omitting the truth, but he still feels hurt, especially when Zayn doesn’t join them for dinner. Liam’s beginning to think Zayn must have a high tolerance to the bell system employed by the Malik family, since he already feels conditioned to head towards the source whenever he hears it. He might not care for Patricia's methods, but they seem effective enough.

Unsuprisingly, the Malik parents are also absent again. Liam’s slightly concerned that he is yet to meet Mr. Malik. He’s even more concerned that Safaa and Waliyha themselves haven’t seen him in days. This job fills him with pity for the two girls – his childhood was rough too, but his one resolve was found in his parents’ support.

Casually, ever so casually, he asks Safaa how she’s getting on at school and who her friends are, relieved that she reels off a number of stories about girls with names like Marie-Beth and Bronwyn. Waliyha is much of the same, talking about the Justin Bieber concert she’s just dying to go to and blushing when Safaa mentions a boy named Oscar in Waliyha’s class, who is revealed to be a ‘total babe’ when Liam presses Waliyha.

Feeling like he’s made progress with the girls (and, in their bedtime reading, less alarmed by the plotlines in _The Magic Faraway Tree_ but ever cautious that he’s going to snigger the next time he says ‘Silky the Elf’), he heads downstairs and makes two cups of tea, stealing some scones from the pantry (while thinking, who in this day and age has a pantry?) and heading up to Zayn’s room, where the lights are already out, darkness visible under the door. Pausing, he dumps the tray outside the room, returns to his bedroom and changes into his pajamas, a too-tight Batman t-shirt and some jogging bottoms. He hopes that the Batman t-shirt will cause... something. He doesn't know yet. He wants Zayn to smile (really smile, not smirk) and open up and this is the closest thing he has to knowledge of Zayn's interests.

Steeling himself, he raps on Zayn’s door. Similarly to last night, a grunt of nondescript nature comes from inside.

“Can I come in?” Liam calls, leaning his forehead against the wood.

More grunts. Taking this as an acceptance, he opens the door and walks in, flipping on the light.

“Hey, you missed dinner. I brought you some food and a cuppa. I thought we could chat.” Liam says bravely, putting the tray on the desk and depositing himself firmly in Zayn’s chair, arms folded.

The face-down lump under the duvet groans and pulls the duvet up further until wisps of brown hair are all that Liam can see.

“Go away,” the lump grumbles in a strange, distorted voice. “’M sleepin’, like,”

“Zayn, please. I just wanna talk to you. You sick? Shall I get someone?”

The lump is still. Liam watches it, unsure of how to proceed. “Zayn…? Could we just talk for a second?”

“Look, mate. Don’t freak out.” The lump says, sitting up slowly, pulling down the duvet. Liam nearly knocks the tray over when he jumps to his feet in surprise because the blue eyes staring back at him guiltily are definitely not Zayn’s.

The person in Zayn’s bed smiles sheepishly. “Errr. So. There is an excellent explanation for this.”

“Who the heck are you?” Liam demands, becoming frazzled instantly, visions of Zayn being murdered or kidnapped by the evil giggling fiends he thought he’d heard in the closet earlier.

“Heck? What era does darling Pat get you people from, are you imported from the 1910s? Or some sort of etiquette school? A nunnery, perhaps? Are you a relative of Julie Andrews?” The boy asks, flipping back the duvet to reveal that he’s fully dressed, shoes and all. He gets up and wanders over to the window, seemingly unfazed by Liam’s presence, as though he gets caught in people's beds all the time. Judging by his cheeky smile and big eyes, Liam suspects his assumption isn't far from the truth. 

“Excuse me? Where the… where the fuck is Zayn?” Liam asks, the swear word coming out odd in his voice.

“He’s fine. Just gone out, y’know.”

“No, I don’t know! Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Err, there’s great ventilation in Zayn’s room? Not to mention an excellent collection of reading and watching material.” The boy smiles cheekily. “Nah mate, this is just a thing we do. The other nannies weren’t as stupid and or smart as you to actually come in and check if the person sleeping in Zayn’s bed was actually Zayn. So, kudos for that.”

“Where is Zayn? I won’t ask you again.” Liam steels himself, squaring his shoulders.

“God knows, in a pub or a club somewhere probably. You’ll never find him mate.”

“Zayn’s 17.” Liam says nervously. “He can’t get into a club.”

“Yeah well, I’m 18 and as you can see, I don’t need my ID right now.”

“You look nothing like him!” Liam exclaims.

The guy laughs as though Liam is a child. Liam stiffens accordingly, trying his best to look threatening in his Batman t-shirt.

“Bradford, man. Nobody asks too many questions or looks too closely. As long as you look old enough and the license says you’re old enough, you’re good to go, the two are pretty mutually exclusive. Zayn looks about 25, whereas you look about 15. Nice Batman pajamas. Where you even from, Birmingham?”

“Wolverhampton.”

“Interesting. Well you’re an improvement on the last one I suppose. _She_ chased me with a saucepan. I was only trying to borrow a bottle opener. Some people are so touchy. So, Mary Poppins, been a pleasure talking to you. Must dash. Cheerio, pip pip.” The boy says, ducking out the window and darting across the roof of the garage and down the trellis before Liam can stop him. Alone again, Liam sighs, pulling his phone out of the depths of his joggers. He dials Zayn’s number and hears a faint buzzing coming from a nearby drawer. Pulling it open, he sees Zayn’s left his phone behind. Slowly he picks it up, turning it over in his hands before putting it back. He’s worried, but he’s not going to make Zayn hate him more by going through his phone. He leans his head back against the wall and groans, settling into his seat and picking up one of Zayn’s comic books from the neatly organised pile beside him. He glances up at the window every few minutes, prepared for a long night.

· * *

Liam hears a motorbike followed by a scuffle at around 4am and thudding outside the window, before Zayn’s silhouette vaults through the window gracefully, stopping abruptly when he spots Liam.

.

“Hi, Zayn. Was hoping we could chat. Brought some tea. Several hours ago.” Liam says.

He definitely didn’t spend some of the hours waiting for Zayn to come back thinking up a good opening line.

“Shiiiiiit.” Zayn says woozily, running his fingers over his swollen lip.

“Indeed.”

“Can it wait?”

“No.”

"Where's Louis...?" 

"He had to 'dash'. Said 'cheerio' and 'pip pip'. Friend of yours, I assume? So charming." Liam says, narrowing his eyes and folding his arms. 

“Can you just, like, piss off? You’re not here to look after me, you’re here to look after the girls. Could you just butt out? Everyone’s happy this way.” Zayn says quietly, cautious of the sleeping household around him but his furious eyes betraying the anger that was burning inside him.

“My job is to take care of the children, and despite what that boy’s ID might say, you are still a child.”

“I’m 17! Two years ago, did you consider yourself a child?”

Liam falters.

“Legally, you’re a child.” He manages to respond.

“You’re not much more than a 'child' yourself. Don’t paint me into an angsty young adult novel unless you’re gonna paint yourself with the same brush.”

“The difference is, I wasn’t sneaking out to god-knows-where with god-knows-who when _I_ was 17.”

“Jesus, you’re like a little middle aged man! Just leave me alone. Don’t you have better things to do at 4am than lecture me? Like, I don’t know, _sleep_? Because, I have a long day of school tomorrow, so I’m just gonna…” Zayn toes off his shoes and collapses face-first onto the bed, effectively ending the conversation. He turns his head and adds, “Light off and door shut when you leave.”

Liam leaves silently, doing as Zayn asks and feeling more useless than ever as he climbs into his own bed.

A few minutes after, Zayn stumbles to his desk and eats one of the scones Liam left behind, feeling slightly remorseful and having no idea why. He ran his hand over the comic book Liam’d left open on the desk before closing it and sighing. “Fuck off.” He says to himself, and it makes him feel slightly better as he tries his best to get some sleep, the Red Bull from the several Jagerbombs he downed earlier making his thoughts jumbled and speedy and his legs jiggle. Alcohol thrums in his veins and he closes his eyes tight, the lights from the club still flashing behind his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I was really pleasantly surprised by the response I got to this! Your comments and encouragement mean the world to me, thank you so much everyone! I'll try and update asap, thanks again :) xx


	3. How do you catch a cloud and pin it down?

The next morning, Zayn is present at breakfast and endures the drive to school in silence, not protesting when Liam affirms that yes, this time he will be picking him up from school at 3:30 without fail.

When Liam gets home, he calls Niall, wanting both to rant and to feel some semblance of his old life.

“Leeeeeyum!” Niall shrieks down the phone merrily. “How the fuck are you? How are the richies treatin ya?”

“Ehhh.” Liam sighs, flopping across his bed miserably. “Been better.” He explains the events of the past couple of days and Niall listens intently, silenced for once.

“…and then this morning, he was acting completely normal! Well, as normal as an angsty 17 year old can be. I don’t know what to do with him, I really don’t.”

“He sounds just your type. Like James Dean with a comic book collection.” Niall remarks eventually, and Liam can hear the smile in his voice.

“What? Shut up. That’s disgusting, I’m practically his babysitter.” Liam scolds.

“Hey, he’s legal!” Niall protests. “How does the song go? He is the dancing queen, young and sweet, only 17…”

“Stop it! I wanted someone sane to reassure me that I was doing the right thing by getting involved. I should’ve known you were the wrong person for the job!”

“Oh, no, don’t be like that! You rock at this whole ‘damaged youth’ thing, that’s why you’re gonna study psychology! Call it a character study. Kid sounds like he’s got some serious Oedipussy complex.”

“Do you know what that is?” Liam says, laughing.

“Not in the slightest. Good to hear your laugh though. Come visit soon?”

“I only just got here!”

“Too bad. I miss you! I have to go now, my break’s over, but don’t be a stranger, kay?”

“Kay. Bye, Niall.”

“Seeya, Leeeeeyum! Good luck with the delinquent!” Niall says cheerily, and he’s hung up before Liam can… Liam can what? Defend Zayn? Agree that he’s a delinquent? More confused than ever, Liam returns to studying, shaking his head when he reads a mention of the ‘Oedipus complex’, knowing that if anything, he could always count on Niall’s ability to make references to things he had no idea about.

* * *

When it’s time to pick the girls up, Liam’s surprised to see Zayn leaning on the fence outside their school, but waves anyway, putting on a big smile. Zayn frowns, pulling headphones from his ears and stalks to the car, jumping into the front seat without comment.

“Zayn,” Liam begins, turning the engine off. “I…”

“Look. Whatever went on last night is my business. Don’t make it your business.”

“It’s my job.”

“No. Your job is to look after the children, I’m not a child. Look, they seem to like you. I don’t. Let it _go_.”

Liam scratches his neck in discomfort, doing his best to appear unruffled.

“And before you ask, I’m staying in tonight, and don’t bother bringing me a cup of tea.” Zayn adds.

“Fine. Whatever.” He says eventually, spotting Waliyha and Safaa coming through the gates and beeping the horn, signalling the end of the conversation. Zayn puts his headphones back in and turns up the music until Liam can hear the bass from where he’s sat.

True to his word, Zayn stays in, even joining them for dinner and having a brief conversation on the pros and cons of potato products with Waliyha before excusing himself politely and disappearing upstairs. Liam goes to sleep feeling better than he has since arrival.

* * *

The next day brings a surprising change in the monotony – Patricia and Zayn’s father Yaser (a hulking, threatening man in an expensive cream suit and a watch that cost more than Liam's tuition fees will) actually join them for dinner. After some general small talk Patricia turns to Liam.

“So, about next weekend. The girls are going on a school trip, so myself and Yaser are going on a couples retreat. Zayn’s friend from archery club is coming to stay and make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.” On hearing this, Zayn smirks almost undetectably behind his fork. Patricia doesn’t even look at him properly, and hasn’t all night. She hasn’t even noticed the yellowing bruises around his eyes.

Liam thinks Yaser noticed by the way his eyes narrowed when he entered and surveyed the room, but he doesn’t comment either. He’s getting the increasing feeling that something isn’t right with this family - and it’s not just a simple case of hardworking socialite parents.

“Oh?” Liam replies, surprised. “What should I do?”

“Well, you can take a trip home if you want. I’m sure you’re missing your friends, family, girlfriend? Just check in with Zayn, I’m sure it’ll be fine. The neighbours can contact us, or you, if not.”

Liam smiles at the thought of seeing his family again (and resists the urge to snort at her suggestion that he had a girlfriend), thanking Patricia gracefully.

After putting the girls to bed and before Yaser and Patricia have come upstairs, Liam can already hear the sound of a motorbike in the driveway and a girl laughing in Zayn's room, but he doesn’t bother investigating, putting a pillow over his ears to block out the sound. Zayn doesn’t mention it in the car the next morning – though Liam doesn’t know why he’s expecting him to. Zayn’s bruises from Sunday night are healing, his split lip scabbing over. Liam watches him worrying it between his teeth out of the corner of his eye and winces uncontrollably as he pulls up outside Zayn’s school to drop him off, squeamish.

“Be careful, yeah?” Liam says vaguely before unlocking the door. His hand itches to run it's fingers across Zayn’s lip and stop him biting at the skin there, and he fights the urge by gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles turning white. He's sure Zayn can tell, but he doesn't say.

“Whatever,” Zayn mutters, grabbing his bag, slipping out and slamming the door in Liam’s face. Sighing, Liam reverses the car and resolves that he shouldn’t give up just yet.

* * *

That night he falls asleep and is woken around 2am by his phone ringing. Diving for it, he answers immediately, hoping the loud ringtone hasn’t awoken anyone else.

“Hello?” he asks sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

“Hello?” A girl’s voice is on the other line, shrill and wide awake. “Is that Liam?” She sounds frantic.

“Er… yeah?” He sits up.

“Is Zayn home?” she demands. “He left his phone here, I can’t find him, can you just….” She breathes heavily, and Liam thinks he can detect a slight Geordie accent coming through.

“Who is this?” Liam asks, flipping on the light and reaching for his jeans and a pair of shoes.

“Can you just go look in his room? Please,” she begs. Liam obliges and enters Zayn’s room without knocking, not surprised to find it empty.

“He’s not here,” Liam declares, checking in the wardrobe and beneath the window to be sure. “When did you last see him?”

“He went to the bathroom about an hour ago and he hasn’t come back,” the girl wails. “I can’t go in,” she pauses dramatically before hissing: “it’s the _men’s_.”

“Where are you? What did you say your name was?” Liam asks, doing his best to sound calm.

“I didn’t. I’m at Flares in the city centre,” she gabbles quickly before hanging up. Groaning, Liam retrieves the car keys and heads out, driving toward the centre of Bradford as fast as he can. Parking in a multi-story car park, he heads onto the high street, no idea where he’s supposed to be going or who he’s looking for. Seeing the neon lights of Flares ahead, he makes a beeline for the door. A bouncer stops him at the door, squaring up.

“Hey, have you seen a tall, dark, handsome, young-ish looking guy with spiky hair?” Liam begins nervously.

"Do I look like fucking Match.com to you, kid?" 

"Sorry, my friend, he's... have you seen anyone like that?"

“Yeah. About 50 of them in the past half hour. ID please.” The bouncer replies gruffly, looking irritated. Liam roots through his wallet and produces his driver’s license, thankful he thought to pick it up on the way out. Placated, the bouncer lets him through and Liam rushes inside, looking for the sign for the bathroom and making his way across the busy, noisy room and into the quiet, dank bathroom.

“Zayn?” He asks aloud. It’s empty, but the door to one of the cubicles is shut, and he hears an all-too-familiar groan from within.

“Ugh, are you fucking _serious_?” A voice groans, before retching.

“Zayn?” Liam goes into the cubicle next door and flips the toilet lid down. “You decent?” He warily stands on the lid and peers into Zayn’s cubicle to watch him coughing up a stream of orange-coloured liquid. “Christ.” He comments, stepping back down and sliding to lean on the adjoining cubicle wall.

“I think that’s it,” Zayn says weakly, and Liam hears the thud of him leaning against the wall. It feels kind of dramatic, the two of them separated by the wall, like a music video or a tween-based telenova. “Why did you…”

“Got a call from a girl. Hysterical. Looking for you.”

“Wondered where my phone had gone,” Zayn complains, and Liam can hear the sound of him slowly getting to his feet and unlocking the door, before a thud which reverberates against the wall.

Liam hastily springs to his feet and rushes to support Zayn, who is leaning diagonally against the wall of the cubicle, looking more than worse for wear in the fluorescence of the lights. Zayn puts his arms around Liam’s shoulder and leans on him, smelling like melon more than he smells like vomit for some inexplicable reason. Liam half-walks, half-carries Zayn to the door of the bathroom. He thinks for a horrifying moment that Zayn is crying but soon realises that he’s laughing.

“What?” Liam asks, resisting a smile at the sound of Zayn’s laugh.

“Nothin’,” Zayn slurs, staggering away from Liam a little, as if realising where he was and who he was leaning on.

“Hey, hey, no,” Liam says, catching him and tugging him outside the bar and past the bouncer. All this fast movement and fresh air proves too much for Zayn and he bends over in the nearest gutter, retching up bile. Liam reaches over and strokes his back comfortingly, looking up when a girl with long pink hair clacks over to them in high heels from inside the bar, looking upset, a motorbike helmet under one arm.

“Zayn?” she asks worriedly, rooting around in her bag. “Are you Liam?”

“Clearly.” Liam retorts, irritated. She frowns at him and passes him Zayn’s phone and a wallet.

“He never does this.” She says in surprise, running a hand through her hair. “Can you get him home?” Liam nods, pulling Zayn to his feet and slipping an arm around his waist.

“Are you gonna be alright?” He asks the girl as an afterthought.

“Oh, me? Yeah, I can ride home now I know he’s fine,” she says indifferently, moving to leave. Liam catches her arm.

“Have you been drinking?” he asks, looking her right in the eyes.

“A little.” She says defensively. “I’m within my limits,”

“C’mon, I’ll drop you home.” Liam insists, and with some persuasion she relents, taking Zayn’s other arm and helping Liam put him in the backseat, a plastic bag beside him in case he needs to throw up again.

They get on the motorway before she speaks, turning her helmet around in her hands awkwardly.

“I’m Perrie, by the way.” She begins, smiling at Liam uncomfortably.

“Nice. Girlfriend?”

She laughs a little too hard.

“Ha! No, Zayn’s not… I mean. No, he’s like a best friend, always up for a party.”

“Evidently,” Liam remarks, glancing in the backseat, where Zayn seems to have fallen asleep.

“Yeah. Thanks for coming to get him. None of the others would ever…”

“It’s my job.” Liam says, for what feels like the thousandth time that week.

“Yeah. You’re not as awful as he said. Next left, please,”

“He said I was awful?” Liam asks sadly.

“Not awful. He said you were handsome...” Perrie says kindly. “But… good.” She adds, as though being ‘good’ was a foreign, undesirable trait, reserved for teetotallers and charity workers.

“I’m trying to be, yeah.”

“Probably not the best approach with Zayn. You can drop me here,” Perrie says, undoing her seatbelt as Liam obliges, pulling up outside a council estate. “Thanks for the ride. Good luck with Lindsay Lohan back there!” She waggles her fingers and disappears, peering one last time at Zayn’s motionless form through the back window before she goes.

Liam reaches behind him and gives Zayn’s leg a shake. “Oi,” he says, disappointed when Zayn doesn’t stir. He turns the radio on quietly and drives home slowly, doing his best not to shake Zayn too much. When they get home he has to fireman carry Zayn to his room, hoping with all his heart that nobody hears him coming in and comes to investigate. He manages to make it upstairs and put Zayn to bed, pouring a glass of water in the bathroom and placing it on the bedside table. One last time, he tries to wake Zayn up by crouching beside him and shaking him gently. Zayn groans and makes grabby hands for Liam’s t-shirt, opening bloodshot eyes.

“Louuis?” Zayn asks, touching Liam’s face. Liam leans back.

“Go to sleep,” Liam tells Zayn.

“Staaaay.”

“Sure,” Liam says, and satisfied by this, Zayn falls back to sleep, one hand still clinging to the material of Liam’s top. He looks more peaceful when he’s asleep, the sneer smoothed away from his features. Liam tugs the duvet over his shoulders, noticing how badly Zayn is shivering and how cool his skin is to the touch.

“Idiot,” he mutters, disentangling Zayn’s hand from his shirt, trying his best to ignore the heartwrenching whimper Zayn makes when he does. He places Zayn’s phone and wallet on the bedside table next to the water, before opening the wallet as an afterthought and taking the ID of a ‘Louis Tomlinson’ out, pocketing it. He makes sure he pulls the curtains before turning out the light, closing the door and retreating back to his room, sinking into his bed with relief. He pulls out Louis’s ID and glares at the smirking face of the boy from Zayn’s bedroom before opening his window and tossing the tiny card as far as he possibly can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I'm not a huge fan of this chapter but I thought I'd better get it uploaded since a few people have messaged me asking when I was going to update. Thank you for the reaction guys, never in a million years did I expect so many people to read this! xx


	4. Eager young lads and roués and cads

The next morning, a sleepy, groggy-looking post shower Zayn knocks on Liam’s door. Opening it in a pair of joggers without a shirt, he smiles at Zayn.

“How’s your head?” He asks, stepping back to let Zayn enter. Zayn walks in and closes the door behind him, speaking softly.

“What…” he begins.

“Your friend Perrie called. You were throwing up. I came to get you,” Liam shrugs, as though it was all in a days work. He pulls on a shirt and begins buttoning it up, not meeting Zayn’s eyes.

“And Louis’s ID?” Zayn presses. “It wasn’t in my wallet this morning,”

“Dunno, mate, you must’ve dropped it in the bar or something.” Liam lies, hands fumbling slightly on the last button. He’s always been a terrible liar, but he hopes Zayn’s still hungover and not perceptive enough to notice. “Wanna get some breakfast?”

“Mate, I’m gagging for a McDonalds.”

“What would your mum say?” Liam scolds. Zayn does his trademark smirk and folds his arms, before taking a different tack.

“Pleeeeeeease?” He says softly, cocking his head and batting his eyes.

Happy that Zayn’s trying and feeling hopeful that this is the opening to ‘bond’ Liam’s been waiting for, he puts on his shoes and grabs his car keys, telling Zayn to dry his hair and get a coat and they could go before his mum noticed they’d left. 

Pulling up outside the nearest McDonalds and parking, Liam looked over at Zayn, who’d been silent the whole journey.

“You alright mate?” He asks.

“Yeah. Just thinking… maybe I did need a friend, yesterday.”

“…A babysitter?”

“Don’t push it.” Zayn says, climbing out of the car and stalking into McDonalds like the world was his runway. Liam scampered after Zayn less gracefully.

“I’ll buy us breakfast,” Zayn announces firmly. “Go get us a table.” Liam looks around the pretty much empty restaurant and picks a table by the window, settling down into the booth and staring out. Zayn settles opposite him with a mound of food, a milkshake and a coffee, pushing the coffee across to him. “I know you like coffee in the morning,” Zayn explains.

“Observant,” Liam smiles, gratefully taking a sip and making a face at how hot it is.

“McDonalds coffee is not the greatest,” Zayn smiles lazily. “So...” He says, wrapping his lips around the end of his straw and hollowing his cheeks as he drank, keeping his eyes trained on Liam’s face.

“So,” Liam repeats, eying Zayn and picking up a chip nervously, his hand shaking slightly. He wills it to stop, turning it into a fist.

“You gonna tell on me, Liam?” Zayn asks slowly.

“No.” Liam says. “Is that what this is about? Some sort of hush…brunch?”

“No.” Zayn says shortly. “I just wanted to make sure… me and my parents don’t exactly see eye to eye, and…”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Liam interrupts. “But maybe… go easy for a while? Don’t get hurt just because it seems like a fun thing at the time.”

“I can handle myself. Last night was... an extenuating circumstance.”

“I’ll bet.” Liam responds in irritation, remembering Perrie’s distress yesterday. “There are other ways to have a good time, you know.”

Zayn laughs at this, but it’s not a cruel laugh. More of a bitter, weary laugh that chills Liam to the bone.

“Really? Like what?” 

“Books? Sports? …Comic books?” Liam suggests, giving Zayn a meaningful look that he doubts Zayn picks up on.

“Not quite the same buzz,” Zayn explains, an unreadable expression on his face. “Do you want the rest of my chips?” He adds, changing the subject. Liam shakes his head and leans back, sighing.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he confesses.

“Nothing. Do nothing.” 

“Okay.” Liam caves, and this time he vows to mean it.

* * *

The next week passes without incident, and Liam thinks maybe, just maybe, Zayn has heeded his warning to take it easy. The weekend rolls around and Liam realises how excited he is to go home and see his parents again. Lugging a suitcase downstairs on Friday night, he calls a farewell to Zayn’s closed door, heaving a sigh as he opens the front door. A cherubic looking boy is standing on the porch, finger hovering over the doorbell. His face instantly breaks out into a smile.

“Hey, are you Liam?” He asks, his voice deep and slow in a contrast to his angelic face. “I’m Harry. Zayn’s friend from archery.” He smiles a megawatt smile and Liam feels instantly at ease. “Can I help you with your bags?” He offers, stepping forward and grabbing the forgotten handle of Liam’s suitcase before Liam has a chance to respond. Dazed, Liam follows Harry to the car, who assures him he’ll “take good care of Zaynie… see you on Sunday!” 

Liam’d almost distrust him, if he didn’t seem so sweet and friendly. He even put his phone number into Liam’s phone and took down a copy of Liam’s number. Feeling a little better about leaving Zayn to fend for himself for a few days, he drives off, happily depositing the maid and the cook at the train station en route. 

When he gets home he calls Niall as his first order of business, and they arrange to meet on Saturday night in Niall’s favourite place of all time – the local pub, where he's friends with all the bar staff and reigning champion in the pub quiz. Liam’s just happy to crash in his own bed and have a few cheeky snacks from the fridge that he doesn’t feel guilty about. His mum is happy to see him and won’t let him leave her sight for the entirety of Saturday, seeming surprised that he hasn’t made any new friends, and oddly interested in Zayn. 

Liam’s starting to feel stifled by the time he has to leave to meet Niall, and is glad to get to the bar. Waiting for Niall in a quiet booth out of the way and sipping a beer slowly, he pulls his phone out with the intention to check where Niall was and was surprised to see a text from a number he didn’t recognise. It simply read “CALL ME.” Abandoning his half-finished pint, he hurried to the outside to the smoking area, hoping to find some quiet before dialling.

“Hello?” an irritated voice answers, and Liam can practically feel the snootiness dripping through the phone.

“Hi? What’s up?” Liam asks. “Who is this?”

“It’s Patricia’s neighbour. Phil.”

Liam has a sharp intake of breath. “Oh?” he asks, doing his best to keep his voice even.

“Look, for hours there’s been music coming from the house, loud, _rude_ music, and now they’re setting off fireworks! I mean, it’s still daylight outside! Can you _do_ something? I want an early night!” he demands irately.

“I’ll be right there,” Liam promises, hanging up before the man can say any more, dialling Zayn. Zayn’s phone goes straight through to voicemail. Remembering Harry entered his phone number yesterday, Liam dials that next.

“At the third stroke, it will be seven forty-five and three seconds.” Liam groans as he realises Harry’s given him a false number, running a hand over his scalp.

“Fucking sneaky bastard.” He says to no-one in particular, resisting the urge to toss his phone across the street. Niall’s head pokes around the door then, framed in the light from inside like an angel holding two jaegerbombs. He bounds over and wraps his arms around Liam.

“Liiiiiiii! I missed you so much! Drink this!” He demands, transferring one of the glasses in his hands to Liam.

“Can’t,” Liam says, blushing. “I… err… Zayn’s in trouble. I gotta head back to Bradford.”

“That’s two hours away, are you crazy? You only just got here!” Niall wails, dumping his glass sadly.

“It’s my job, I can’t…”

“I get it. Which is why I’m coming with you.” Niall says decisively. “C’mon, we can walk back to mine and I’ll drive. Thank god I didn’t have a drink before I came!” He biffs Liam’s arm playfully. “Can’t wait to meet the famous Zayn.”

“Shut up.” Liam growls. “Say nothing to him. He’s in big trouble.” He lets Niall come along anyway. The roads are pretty clear and Niall fills the silence with intermittent singing and rambling anecdotes from the past fortnight. They arrive at the house around half 10, and they hear it before they see it, the dull thudding of dubstep music and excited, high pitched shrieking coming from the end of the road.

“What is this, Project X?” Niall asks in absolute horror as they park across the street, because the driveway is blocked by a row of parked motorbikes. Liam just blinks in surprise.

“C’mon.” he says eventually, steeling himself before stepping out of the car and walking towards the house’s dark doorstep, reaching up to knock before realising the door was already ajar. Niall appears next to him and pushes the door open warily. It’s dark inside too, and there are people packed everywhere.

Liam pushes his way into the lounge, a place he’s spent little time, and he has to admit that people are being relatively good – there are coasters being used for the mysterious, dark drinks, nobody is smoking, everyone is respecting the house – they’ve even taken their shoes off to dance. In fact, if not for the loud Skrillex track blasting, anyone would’ve driven past the house and been none the wiser. Spotting Harry talking to a blonde, Liam makes a beeline for him, Niall distracted by an expensive vase.

“Harry.” Liam calls. Harry glances up, a grin on his face and it immediately disappears when he recognises Liam, before reappearing just as sinisterly, gleaming like the grin of the Cheshire cat.

“Liaaam! Glad you could make it! This is Zoe,” he says, waving a vague arm in the direction of the blonde, who looks disappointed that Harry’s attention has been snatched away from her.

“Where’s Zayn?” Liam demands, ignoring Harry’s words.

“Not a clue. Went upstairs with Louis earlier, I reckon,” Harry says nonchalantly, miming a snorting action and reaching for a wine glass full of blue liquid. Liam flinches and turns to leave, and Harry catches his sleeve as he goes.

“Just go,” Harry says slowly, leaning close to Liam. “There is no way that he’s gonna want you here. Just leave. Let the police sort it if there’s such a huge issue,”

“Get. Off. Me.” Liam says through his teeth. Pushing him aside, he runs upstairs, bursting into Zayn’s room without knocking and catches a couple grinding on Zayn’s bedsheets. Liam couldn’t explain why he suddenly feels relief when he realises it was Louis and a brunette girl he didn’t recognise, squeaking an apology and stepping back into the hallway.

Heading for his own bedroom, he finds the door ajar and walks in apprehensively, concerned about what he might find.

Zayn’s lying across his bed, headphones in and head in one of Liam’s psychology books. He looks up when Liam comes in and smiles weakly.

“Hiya.” He says guiltily, flipping the book shut.

“Hey.” Liam says, closing the door softly behind him and leaning on it, arms folded.

“It was all Harry’s idea.” Zayn begins sheepishly, propping himself up on his elbows and raising his eyes to Liam’s.

“Shocking.” Liam retorts. “Why are you doing this? Are you thirsty for attention? Daddy issues?” He sneers, regretting the words as they leave his mouth, but it’s like now he’s started he can’t stop. “Did you find anything interesting in my books to explain why you are the way you are?”

Zayn’s eyes narrow and he gets to his feet shakily, swaying slightly. Liam resists the urge to spring forward and steady him, folding his arms tighter around himself. Zayn rounds on him, regarding him the way a bull looks at a matador before charging. He opens his mouth, frowns in confusion, and then proceeds to vomit all over the plush cream carpet.

Liam springs into action then, rushing to Zayn’s side and sitting him back down on the bed, asking him again and again “what did you drink? Did you take something?” Zayn just smiles, laughs and leans on Liam, normally dark eyes slightly misty. He suddenly closes his eyes and starts to snore and Liam leans him back slowly onto the bed, resolving that he’ll deal with him later. Just then, he hears an almighty crash, a high-pitched scream and the sound of sirens outside.

Groaning, he gets to his feet and heads downstairs, taking one last look at Zayn sprawled across the sheets before he closes the door. He looks peaceful for once, and Liam becomes resigned to the strange feeling that this'll be the last time they'll ever see each other.


	5. The Sun Has Gone To Bed (And So Must I)

“Alright, kids, party’s over.” A burly police officer tells the revellers in the hall, shining a torch in their face as they scatter out of the front door, left wide open. The music shuts off suddenly and Liam looks at the giant mass of glass scattered across the floor in the dark room – the beautiful antique chandelier that hung over the hallway was the cause of the crashing sound.

“Officer,” Liam says, rushing over with his heart in his mouth, his arms itching to put his hands up like in a movie.

“Run along, kid.” The officer says vaguely, looking exasperated.

“No, I, I… live here.” Liam admits slowly, rubbing the back of his neck guiltily.

“Oh.” The officer replies, taking a good look at Liam, his eyes confused as he takes in Liam’s demeanor. “Son, I don’t want to have to give you a warning. The Maliks are good friends of mine. They do a lot for the force… I would hate to drag any paperwork in. Just… keep it down, yeah. Send my love to Pat.” The officer says, bowing his head.

Liam walks through to the lounge, groaning in relief as the silence rings in his ears. The presence of a solitary police officer was enough to drive away everyone who wasn’t too drunk or too stupid to leave, leaving just three people in the lounge, sprawled over the fancy sofas that Liam has never seen anyone sit on before, let alone snooze on. He recognises them: Perrie, Louis, Harry. He goes over to Harry and crouches down beside him, shaking his shoulder roughly. Harry opens a bleary eye ruefully.

“Party’s over, kid.” Liam says, and the words sound wrong in his mouth, too patronising, too adult. He sounds just like the police officer and he hates it.

“Not quite.” Harry mumbles in irritation, pulling an expensive looking pillow over his ears. “Best friend privileges.” He adds, pulling out his wallet and pushing it in Liam’s face as though he has some form of ID card in there. Resigned, Liam gets up and looks around when he hears the crunch of glass underfoot. Niall is looking at him from the hallway, face contorted with confusion.

“Crazy party, huh?” Niall jokes tentatively, leaning on the doorframe. “Met a nice girl. She tried to exchange cocaine for my left shoe.”

“Really something.”

“All I wanted was to know where the bathroom was!”

“It’s down the hall.”

“How did you not get arrested?”

“The Malik family are paying off the police force apparently.”

“Interesting.”

“C’mon, we’ll get rid of this lot in the morning.” Liam says eventually. A protective instinct sets in and he grabs some blankets from the impeccably neat bathroom closet and spreads them across the sleeping teens while Niall looks on, a little smile spreading over his face uncontrollably.

“What?” Liam demands, doing his best to look menacing.

“You’re good at this. Looking after people when they don’t want to be looked after. You’ll be great as a counsellor.”

“Gotta get the money together for Uni first. Which, judging by the state of this house, is not gonna be any time soon. Might have to extend my gap year to a gap decade. Fuck.”

“Li,” Niall bleats, moving closer. “They can’t… you can’t take the fall for this.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.” Liam repeats, as though saying it enough times will make it true.

“So. Bedtime?”

“Guess so. Oh, wait, Zayn’s in my –“ Liam flushes as Niall’s face lights up, eyebrows set waggling.

“Is he in _your_ room? Why?”

“It’s not our place to judge the decisions of drunker mortals.”

“Can I meet him? My imagination is gonna swallow me whole!”

“Maybe tomorrow. He’s a bit under the weather.”

“Oh please, please please please.”

“Fine, we can peek on him. Better check he hasn’t choked to death on his vomit anyway.”

“You’re so cute when you pretend he’s not your favourite.” Niall says, bopping Liam by the nose and bouncing into the hall, skittering across the shards of glass in an unco-ordinated display, Liam following more carefully, marvelling at Niall’s ability to go from serious adult to excitable child in seconds. Niall rushes ahead and opens all the doors with theatrical slowness, peering into each room with a look of wonder.

“This house is huge!” he remarks to Liam, who shrugs. “I wanna live here.”

“Well, I feel like there’ll be a job opening very soon.” Liam replies, looking into the bathroom, which has vomit splattered down the side of the sink, and shuddering.

“You don’t know that. You said the girls loved you, they can vouch for you, hell, Zayn’ll vouch for you, it’ll be fine, like you said.”

“Hmm.” Liam says. “It’s that room, by the way.” He adds, nodding to the end of the hall. Niall practically skips to the door before he knocks softly and opens it, wincing at the big stain on the carpet and glancing back at Liam.

Zayn raises his head, confused.

“Bathroom’s that way,” he says with irritation, rolling onto his face to signal the end of the conversation.

“Thanks,” Niall says softly, closing the door again and walking up to Liam. “He’s cute. Just like I predicted.”

“What did you predict?”

“He’s your type.” Niall giggles, Liam’s jaw dropping in horror.

“No. No no no no no. Stop it.” Liam protests, flapping his hands at Niall half-heartedly, feeling like a 12 year old girl. “It’s creepy!”

“Well at least if you get fired you can date him. Every cloud’s got a silver lining.”

“…come on, we can sleep in Zayn’s room.” Liam changes the subject quickly, walking away from Niall quickly to hide his flushing cheeks.

* * *

At around 9am Liam wakes up with a jolt to the sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains. He rolls over to see Niall is peacefully snoozing beside him, one leg straddling the duvet and snoring away happily.

Getting up, he groans, remembering the state of the house. Pulling on last night’s shirt in lieu of disturbing an undoubtedly hungover Zayn, he pads downstairs in his socks, taking care to avoid the shards of glass still scattered across the floor and going straight into the kitchen, starting to fiddle with the settings on the fancy Nespresso coffee machine and hoping it won’t explode in his face. Another £300 to add to his bill, maybe?

He hears an expletive from the hallway, followed by an exclamation of pain, and then Harry limps into the kitchen miserably, his hair mussed up and a checked blanket wrapped around his bare shoulders.

“Lose your shirt?” Liam remarks, glaring at Harry as Harry slips onto one of the stools beside the kitchen island.

“Guhhhh. Cut my foot.” Harry complains, as though that explains his current bare torso, and rests his head on the counter mournfully, wrapping the blanket around him a little tighter.

“You’ll get no sympathy from me.” Liam mutters, but gets down a mug for Harry and silently bustles around the kitchen.

“Sorry, mum.” Harry jests, raising his head and resting his chin in his palms like an insolent child. “Can I still play with Zayn?”

“Tea?” Liam asks, hunting for the teabags in a cupboard that resembles a spaceship in terms of chrome design features.

“Two sugars pleaseeee.” Harry says, elongating the end of every word.

Perrie’s next to wake up, walking into the kitchen and looking at Liam with confusion and guilt in her eyes.

“Liam,” she croaks, her voice nearly gone. “I thought… Zayn said you went home?”

“Oh, good, so we all know each other!” Harry says, cheerier now he’s got his caffeine fix.

“Oh yes, can’t wait for Louis to get up, then it’ll really be a party.” Liam snarks. “Tea or coffee, Perrie?” He adds, more kindly.

“Uhh… water, please.” She says, leaning against the wall as though it was the only thing holding her up.

“Keep it down lads, some of us need our 8 hours of sleep!” Louis calls, followed by a “what the fuck happened to the fancy floaty lamp?” and finally adding “has anyone seen my phone?” as he walks in. “Oh… Liam. Welcome back.”

“Tea or coffee?” Liam says drily. “And you can be on clean-up squad or piss off.”

“Coffee please. Black. Where’s Zayn?”

“Sleeping off whatever evil things you put in his system last night.”

“Hey. I never put things in his system. I just leave them system-adjacent.”

“Yeah, well, stop it. He doesn’t need a bad influence in his life.” Liam says, knowing that now more than ever he sounds like a disapproving teacher.

“Clearly, he does. Maybe you do too.”

“Unlikely.”

Almost as if on cue, Niall bursts in, irritatingly cheery for this early in the morning.

“Good morning Team Bradford!” Niall announces in his best radio presenter impression, hair sticking straight up.

“Who the fuck…?” Harry marvels as Niall starts opening cupboards in hunt for food.

“Wholegrain… what? Where are the pop tarts? The kiddies cereal? I know there are children here… What do they _eat_?” Niall seems horrified.

“That’s Niall. He’s my friend from home.” Liam shrugs, opening the pantry. Niall turns round, eyes shining.

“Home? I thought you were from Wolverhampton, not Wales!” Louis remarks, grabbing at the coffee Liam just made him.

“Niall’s Irish.” Liam says, offended.

“Ahh. That explains everything. Are we doing introductions?”

“Oh don’t worry, I know who you are. It was a long drive.” Niall says, appearing triumphantly with a box of crumpets. “Louis… Perrie… Harry? Aren’t you a charming posse?”

“We’re sorry.” Perrie says genuinely, addressing Liam more than Niall, her face ashen. “It was just meant to be a few of us. A few drinks, films.”

“It’s fine. It happens. Can’t be helped.” Liam replies shortly, his voice wavering. “I’m going to take a cup of tea to Zayn. If you guys want to start cleaning up the mess you made maybe Niall’ll share his crumpets.” He fixes them all with a stern look and swans out as best he can with his hands full of crockery.

Knocking on the door gently, he hears a groan from within and takes this as an invitation in. Leaning on the door handle to open the door, he pushes it with his foot. Zayn’s sitting cross legged on the bed with his eyes fixed on the door, as though he was waiting for Liam to come back.

“Morning.” Liam says. “Tea?”

“Lifesaver.” Zayn says, leaning forward. “I, er… I shampooed the carpet.” Liam looks across to the location of the stain that had been so evident last night and sees a bottle of L’Oreal resting next to a puddle of foam. He stares at it for a few seconds, cogs turning in his brain.

“You do realise there’s a specific kind of shampoo for carpets.” Liam says eventually, passing a mug across and taking a sip from his own, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed with his back to Zayn. Zayn slides along til he’s next to Liam.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Liam says, and any minute now those words are going to lose meaning.

“It’s not. I’m gonna ring Mum and Dad tonight.” Zayn promises, and Liam realises with a jolt that that’s the first time he’s ever heard Zayn call his parents that. It’s strange – it reminds him that Zayn’s still someone’s kid, someone’s responsibility. His responsibility.

“Don’t. I will.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. I reckon… I reckon I’ll be moving on.”

There’s a pregnant pause while Zayn mulls this over.

“The girls really liked you, you know.” Zayn says, and he’s already using the past tense.

“Yeah. I’ll tell you a secret though.” Liam says gently, sipping at his tea.

“Yeah?”

“You were my favourite.”


	6. Wait a Year or Two

Liam spends the entirety of Sunday pushing Zayn and Niall into doing the cleaning (Louis scarpers around 11am after receiving a text message from last night’s brunette, all waggling fingers and “sorry chaps! Duty calls!”) and chatting to Harry while scrubbing the bathroom. Harry seems relatively amicable and infuriatingly cheerful after the caffeine kicks in, instigating an ABBA-themed singsong as they scrub the linoleum.

Perrie sets to cleaning up the vomit on Liam’s carpet without being asked, explaining that she has had a “lot of experience” with getting the stains out, not elaborating. Zayn whispers in an aside to Liam that Perrie’s mum is sick, and Liam feels for her, this girl from the bad side of town, wonders how she met Zayn, wonders how she copes.

He’s becoming resigned to the fact he’s never going to find out these things. He rings Patricia and the phone goes straight to voicemail, he tries Yaser and finds the same again. Groaning, he sets about making some lunch for his weary workers, and in a last act of rebellion, throws the bell Patricia handed him into the bin and yells “LUNCH” as loud as he can, his voice echoing through the high ceilings of the house.

Harry careers in and gives Liam a wet, sloppy thank-you kiss on the cheek before snatching a slice of toast, announcing that “the bathroom wasn’t even that bad. Most of the fluids were flushable. Where’s Zayn?”

“I let him have a snooze.”

“Ahh, no fair, playing favourites.” Harry jokes, taking a bite and making an appreciative noise.

“Get your mum to pay me and you can have a nap too.” Liam says, sweeping away the crumbs that Harry’s scattered on the countertop subconsciously.

“Hey. Heyyyyy. I’m here by choice!”

“This entire mess is your fault!” Liam says sharply, regretting it when Harry turns full-pelt puppy eyes onto him.

“I just thought it’d be fun. Zayn doesn’t have much fun…”

Liam snorts and shakes his head. Just then, the doorbell rings and jars them from their conversation.

“Zayn’s parents.”

“Shiiiiiiiiiit.” Harry says slowly, elongating the word and turning it into a . “Shall I get in the pantry?”

“What is it with you lot and hiding in closets?”

“Don’t know, must’ve picked it up from Zayn.” Harry says, and before Liam can respond he’s hearing a key turn in the door and the short, ominous three tolls of Patricia’s bell from the hallway.

* *  
Unsurprisingly, Liam gets fired. Patricia takes one look at the absence of a chandelier in the hallway, calls her secretary (who is evidently paid enough that she has no qualms about going above and beyond the call of duty on a Sunday afternoon) and within the hour a new replica chandelier is being hoisted into the air and Liam’s been handed a glowing, sincere letter of recommendation and instructions never to contact the family again. He doesn’t even say goodbye to Zayn.

He gets home from the long drive and flops onto his bed, exhausted, saying nothing to Niall when he gets dropped off. His mum knocks on the door and asks if he wants dinner and he’s too tired to reply, head buried in his pillow. In fact, it’s Niall who raises him from his stupor, bursting into the room like nothing had happened, struggling with a crate of Fosters, the Fifa 13 box balanced precariously on top.

“Ughhhhhh.” Liam says in greeting. “Noooooo.” He adds halfheartedly as Niall gently gives his bum a smack with the case of the game.

“Your mum let me in.” Niall says, flinging himself onto Liam’s back and sitting astride him to pin him down, game slipping forgotten to the ground. “Don’t make me tickle you.”

“No, no, no!” Liam says, writhing onto his front and bucking Niall off, shaking his head in exasperation as Niall waggles his fingers threateningly toward Liam’s midriff. Niall blinks at him hopefully, head cocked to one side and hair askew from the scuffle. “Fine. Give me a beer and a controller and go easy on me, yeah?” Niall obliges and they pick their teams in silence, playing amicably and drinking steadily until Niall clears his throat when they reach halftime. (5-1 to Niall.)

“So, what’s the plan?” Niall asks gently.

“The plan?” Liam feigns confusion, though he’s been turning it over in his mind since that morning.

“The future plan. I know you’ve got one.”

“Look at this.” Liam says, reaching into his still-packed suitcase and retrieving the recommendation letter. Niall scans over it, eyebrows shooting up.

“Li, this is great! How did you swing this? You basically confessed to throwing a rager at their house and she’s written something that presents you like the Daily Llama.”

“The Dail… what?” Niall shrugs and Liam continues. “I think Patricia could tell it wasn’t me, but she… I don’t know why she gave me that. Maybe she doesn’t want to believe her son’s a little shit.” Liam says, grabbing it and smoothing out a crease before placing it delicately into his desk drawer on top of his student finance applications.

“You don’t believe that either, do you?”

“I don’t think so. There was… a moment or two where I saw he was human. He’s just a kid, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“None of us do.”

“Hmmm. Anyway, that letter means I never have to talk to her again or hear her stupid bell ringing.”

“I guess their family is pretty prolific. Getting another job shouldn’t be hard, with that. I saw that they’re hiring in the pub, maybe think about that? Nice people. Good tips.”

“Merrr.” Liam says noncommittally. “Not good enough,” he adds wistfully. “Not like the Maliks were paying.”

“Well then, for that kind of pro rata, become a prostitute? The world’s your oyster.”

Liam splutters.

“No, definitely not.”

“You’ll find something. It’ll be fine.” Niall says confidently. “Now, if you don’t mind, Derby are about to school Manchester United.” He says, picking up the controller and resuming the game.

“How is this happening?” Liam wails, and he settles so easily back into the role of child that he almost forgets for a second that he was responsible for the welfare of three of them just that morning.

* * *

Liam ends up applying for the job at the pub, and finds if he doesn’t think too hard about it, it’s pretty similar to his job at the Maliks – at least, there’s a lot of looking after people involved, and he’s even getting some psychology work done behind the bar during the quiet of the afternoon shift. He even gets to pick the music sometimes. He likes it, it’s easy, it pays enough.

By August, he’s got enough money saved to safely pay his deposit for accommodation at University, and he’s slowly realising it’s actually going to happen. He’s actually going to go. He celebrates his birthday with his family and Niall and vows that by this time next year he’s going to have an abundance of new, intellectual, interesting University friends to introduce to his family and Niall and maybe even a steady relationship.

The end of September rolls around before he knows it and his mum drives him down to Exeter (crying 95% of the way) and he unpacks his stuff and sits on his shitty single bed in his shitty room and exhales softly, just breathing it in. He did it.

He hasn’t thought about Zayn in 3 months.

That is, until his new flatmate walks in and something about him is just inherently _Zayn._

They don’t look similar, don’t speak in a similar way, yet there’s something in the cheeky curve of his lip and the can of Strongbow in his hand that just screams ‘Zaynzaynzaynzaynzayn’ at Liam.

“Hey. I’m Matty.” He says slowly, leaning against the door-frame. Liam winces, realising he’s staring, trying to place him. He straightens his back, makes eye contact and then puts on his best bartender smile.

“Hey, I’m Liam. I guess we’re roomies, huh?”

“I’m just across the hall, yeah.” Matty says, gesturing behind him vaguely with his free hand. “Hope you’re not a big snorer. Wanna come into the kitchen? I’m trying to get a game of beer pong going.”

Liam smiles, happy to be included, and follows Matty into the kitchen to meet the rest of the people from his hallway. They chat inanely about hometowns and course subjects and relationships, conversation flowing easier as the drinks flow faster, Matty quickly becoming reigning beer pong champion. At one point, he reaches for Liam’s phone to check the time and clocks the background, a photo of Niall and Liam at a Kanye West concert last year, arms round each others shoulders, elated.

“Nice picture,” he says. “This your boyfriend?” He asks, not unkindly, running a thumb across the background curiously.

“Nah, just a friend.” Liam says, scratching at his arm and wondering if it was obvious that he was gay.

“Shame. You two look pretty cute together.” Matty comments, gauging Liam’s reaction as he slides the phone back across the table (carefully avoiding a puddle of lemonade).

“Not on my team, I’m afraid.” Liam shrugs, and that’s how he comes out to his flatmates, without any pomp or circumstance.

They respond by refilling his cup with a mysterious beer called ‘Frosty Jacks’ and pressing a ping pong ball into his hand, by nudging him in the direction of attractive boys at the Student Union that night, by just acting like he’s told them he’s a vegetarian or he’s just told them he’s a Virgo, and that’s all there ever is to it.

Liam realises as he’s dancing with his flatmates and talking to new people in the smoker’s area and downing disgusting jaeger bombs that he’d sneered at when pouring for bar pundits last week that university doesn’t have to be like school was.

He actually has a chance to be himself here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man did this take a long time! Been some real life drama I'm afraid but that's all blowing over so the next chapter will be up in the next week, sorry for the shortness of this and thanks for all the love! xxxxx


	7. Blossom of snow, may you bloom and grow

Liam’s first semester flies by in a flash of drinks, papers and TV show marathons. Before he knows it he’s back in Wolverhampton for Christmas with a shedload of laundry for his mum and a teeny weeny beer gut from too many Pot Noodles and not enough sit ups.

Niall greets him at the train station with aplomb, running at him in slow motion like the father in the end of the Railway Children in a fashion that’s not a hundred percent ironic. Liam accepts the affection with open arms, taking a good long sniff of Niall’s jacket as they hug on the quiet platform, Christmas lights twinkling overhead.

“Yooooooo. How goes it?” Niall says, feigning indifference, though his grip on Liam is vicelike, the hug lasting a good minute.

“It goes great. Got so much to tell you!” Liam says excitedly.

“Well, go on then! Don’t expect me to help you with your bags, I injured my arm in an intense darts drinking game last night.”

And just like that, it’s like he’s never been away. It’s when they’re driving in Niall’s car back to Liam’s that he hears a familiar name on the radio, and it truly feels like no time has passed at all.

“Top of the financial headlines today, media mogul Yaser Malik has been arrested today after allegations of fraud and embezzlement.”

“SHIT. Shit, Niall, turn it up.” Liam gabbles, diving for the dial as he speaks.

“Why, the song’s over…” Niall says, focused on the road.

“They’re talking about Zayn’s- the Maliks…”

“His rep could not be contacted for comment. This news comes on the heels of the sudden crash of his new business venture, a women’s magazine edited by his wife Patricia. Stocks in the company have taken a 6.0% dive since the markets opened this morning. More developing.”

“Shit.” Niall repeats Liam’s sentiment. “You wanna call Zayn?”

“…I deleted his number.” Liam admits.

“Why?” Niall asks, genuinely curious.

“Which brings me to my next piece of news. I, uh, I met someone.”

“Like, a real, actual guy? And you waited until now to tell me?”

“He’s my flatmate.” Liam confesses, an image of Matty passed out over his bed next to him after one too many vodka red bulls flashing in front of his eyes. He definitely doesn’t remind him of Zayn now he’s got to know him… Not one bit.

“Oh…”

“I think he might be straight. I am yet to establish.”

“What’s his name?” Niall presses, rolling his eyes. “So you’re not… together?”

“Matty. And not as such. You know… the ‘we live together’ conundrum.”

“Strong name. Y’know what though, I prefer Zayn. Much more interesting name. What is it with you and falling for the people you live with? Is that your thing? I’m beginning to rethink our 10-year-plan, you might wanna bum me after seeing me first thing in the morning.” Niall and Liam had drunkenly decided that if they were entering their late 20s and single, they would open an Irish pub in Wolverhampton together and live in the flat above, running open mic nights and chatting up the clientele.

“Nialllllll.” Liam whines, folding his arms. “It’s not a thing.” The radio’s stopped talking about Zayn’s dad now, moving on to play an old Usher song, and Liam turns it up and starts singing slightly off-key, doing awkwardly jerky hand movements in a futile attempt to distract Niall. He can see a whisper of a smirk turning up the corners of Niall’s mouth and ups the ante, jiggling in his seat.

“Stop it. We’re talking about this. What’s this Matty like? And what does he have to do with you deleting Zayn’s number, if Zayn’s nothing to you?”

“Exactly that. He’s nothing to me.”

“Li.”

“Fine. Maybe after a few drinks I started thinking maybe he was something to me and maybe I told Matty that he was something to me and maybe Matty told me the best idea was to just delete his number, delete Perrie’s number, forget it, and have another drink.” Liam garbles in one breath, exhaling like a great weight has been lifted from his chest.

“Fuck.” Niall comments. There’s silence, then a tiny “so you did like him, then?”

“Maybe I did. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone. Feel bad about his parents, though. Must be really tough.”

That night when Liam’s tucked up in his childhood bed, glad to be home and full of roast dinner, Niall sits up in his own room and scrolls through his phone contacts, stopping on Harry’s name with a sigh. Harry’d told him that if he was ever in town and wanted a good party, to give him a call. He was pretty sure now was a good a time as any to cash in a favour, and begins tapping out a text.

***

Christmas flies by and Liam finds himself longing for the freedom of University and the comfort of having friends just down the hall and someone to talk to at any hour of the day, becoming stir crazy at home with his mum badgering him to tell her stories and only having Niall to talk to. He gets his results through just after the New Year, and he’s pleased to discover he’s got a First in his assignments. Happy as he was to be around his family again, he’s ready to head back by the time second semester begins, promising Niall that he’d keep him updated on the Matty saga as it unfolds, though Niall seems strangely disinterested in the whole charade.

Liam finds Matty sat in their shared kitchen when he gets back to his accomodation, a cup of tea in his hand, an absent look on his face as he lazily scrolls through Facebook on his laptop, oblivious to Liam’s arrival. Liam stares at him for a good long while, hovering outside and peering through the small window. He can’t see any of Zayn in his face, and he realises maybe he doesn’t like him, maybe he just likes the idea of another perfect, damaged boy across the hall.

“Hey,” Liam says, pushing open the door with sudden confidence. Matty’s head snaps up and he smiles.

“Leeeeeeyum!” He says, waving and closing his laptop, jumping to his feet to make a second cup of tea without Liam even having to ask. “How was your Christmas?”

“Good. Was good to see my friends again, see my parents… have a home cooked meal and a break from the alcohol…” Liam says with a false sounding guffaw, accepting the mug with a meek “thank you” and trying not to stare too hard at Matt. “Yours?”

“Yeah, it was good. I, actually, I got back with my ex, so… it was weird. But nice. She’s coming up to visit next weekend, would be good if we could all go on a night out, yeah?” Matty says, and there’s the sound of the deafeningly silent sexually ambiguous elephant leaving the room. “Want a biscuit? My mum gave me a multipack of garibaldis. Said I’m looking skinny, need feeding up.”

“Yeah, sure.” Liam says, making his excuses to return to his room to unpack, feeling the last fledgling of hope for a functioning relationship involving lots of late night stumbles across the hallway successfully snuffed. He spends the next week throwing himself back into his work, back into the stream of late nights writing essays. He’s trudging home in the snow on Sunday night when Matty texts him with “I didn’t kno u had a boyf! Congrats. Hes cuteeee 5 stars” . Upping his pace, Liam writes a quick “wat” and sends it, receiving a “yeah yeah whatever. U owe me!”. He’s practically running when he gets to his halls, jogging up the stairs with a quick squeaked “hi” to the smokers outside, wondering what Matty’s playing at.

He bursts into the kitchen dramatically to find it empty save some dirty dishes, and retreats to his bedroom scratching his head, jumping out of his skin when he sees a dejected-looking boy on his bed, hands folded in his lap, bulging rucksack at his feet.

“Hey.” Zayn says simply, crossing and uncrossing his legs, looking more uncomfortable than Liam’s ever seen him, a tattoo on his arm, tousled hair and huge, tired bags under his eyes, still infuriatingly breathtaking.

“Hey.” Liam says, struggling to find anything else to say.

“…I ran away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love everyone! Sorry to rush through Liam's Uni time, I'm getting the feel from the comments and Tumblr messages that you want more Zayn so, here you go! Next chapter is imminent, gotta move back to Uni myself at the end of the week so should hopefully put it up before then! Thank you alll for joining me on this journey of emotion, we're almost there!


	8. Somebody kind who touches your mind

Liam slams his door shut behind him more loudly than he means to, sinking down against it, bag dropping to the ground with a thud beside him.

“You… ran away?” He repeats, as though Zayn’s said something in a foreign language.

“Yeah. Mum wanted to send me to boarding school and resit college. I’m like, I’m 18 now, I’m leaving.”

“…happy birthday.” Liam says weakly.

“Cheers.” Zayn says, looking as lost as Liam feels.

“Why here?” Liam manages eventually, not unkindly, just bewildered.

“I had nowhere else.”

“Oh.” Liam says, put out.

“Nowhere else I wanted to go.” Zayn hurries to correct himself. “Please, just let me stay here for a bit, let me…”

“Scare your mum?”

“Basically.” Zayn says, shrugging his shoulders. Liam looks how thin he is, resists reaching out to hold him.

“I could get arrested, Zayn…” He says, but his heart isn’t in it.

“For what? I’m an adult, you’re an adult.”

“I was your nanny!”

“You said we’d be friends.” Zayn counters. “Friends have sleepovers.”

“Not friends who used to… okay. Please, tell your mum you’re okay.”

“She knows. As long as she doesn’t get a phone call about me being splattered on the motorway, I think she’s perfectly happy foisting her attention on her perfect little girls and playing the shocked, unaware wife card.”

“How’s your dad?” Liam asks.

“Incarcerated. In fancy prison.”

“What?” Liam blinks, getting back to his feet and pacing up and down the few metres of floor between his bed and his desk.

“Yeah, I guess he fiddled some accounts? I don’t really… get that sort of thing. Maths.”

“We can, we can talk about it. Do you want a cuppa?” Liam says eventually.

“I’d love one.”

“Alright, wait here.” Liam says, not turning his back until the last minute for fear that Zayn might evaporate into thin air.

Matty’s sitting in the kitchen as always, feet up on a chair, a book open in the masquerade of study, but the way he’s looking at Liam like a tiger stalking his prey leaves something to be desired.

“So, secret boyfriend, eh?” Matty says cheerfully. “You never said.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend. He’s just come to visit for a bit, yeah? Don’t read anything into it.” Liam grumbles, putting the kettle on and banging around in the little kitchen, trying not to stir the precarious stack of saucepans and plates that took up permanent residence beside the sink.

“Okay. Well keep it down, I’ve got plenty of work to do and no love interest to distract me.” Matty says, while stubbornly looking anywhere but at the page in front of him. Liam rushes back to his room and walks in. Zayn’s standing staring at Liam’s wall of revision posters, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He spins round suddenly when Liam walks in, a guilty expression on his face.

“Relax, I’m not gonna eat you.” Liam says, putting the cups down on his desk and sitting down on the edge of his bed, feeling suddenly out of place in his own bedroom. Zayn eventually joins him, flopping onto his back with an exhausted sigh.

“Your bed is fucking uncomfortable, mate.” He says disconcertedly, sitting upright again, opting to fold his legs beneath him, his shoes toed off neatly on the floor.

“Sorry.” Liam says, grabbing a pillow and offering it to Zayn, who takes it gratefully.

“So… how is it? Uni? Hard?” Zayn asks him, not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, hard. Fun though. Good. Do you want to go… what are you going to…?”

“No heavy questions, yeah?” Zayn asks, reaching over for the mugs and passing one to Liam, taking a long gulp of his own. “Let me get my bearings first.”

“Okay. So, how’s Perrie?” Liam asks, genuinely wanting to know.

“She’s good. Her mum actually got a job last month, so she’s feeling a lot better, and Perrie’s gone back to college full time.” Zayn says, and the proudest of smiles plays on his lips.

“And Harry? And Louis?”

“Harry’s good. Louis leads to heavy questions, so let’s not.”

“Oh.” Liam frowns. “But Harry’s good?”

“Yeah. Actually…”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Zayn says quickly, shaking his head. “Who’s the guy who let me in, by the way? Seemed nice.” There’s a sharpness to his tone, a sharpness disguised as curiosity.

“He is nice.” Liam’s fast to defend Matty, colour creeping into his cheeks. He can feel them burning and takes a quick sip of his tea. “He’s cool, yeah.”

“Seems it.”

That ends that conversation, and Liam manages to break the tension by suggesting they walk down to the chippy at the end of the road. From then on their conversation is filled with a debate on the perks of ketchup vs. mustard and the walk back in the cold is nice because Zayn walks closely to Liam to keep warm. They sit cross legged opposite each other on Liam’s bed to eat, and Liam finally feels like it’s time to start the heavy stuff now he’s sure Zayn’s not going to keel over from hunger.

“So, how did you even know where to look for me?” Liam asks.

“I, errrrr,” Zayn coughs, swallowing a mouthful of burger. “Niall called Harry when he heard about my dad, and imparted some wisdom, Harry likes to meddle and he told me that if I was gonna leave, I better go somewhere I would be safe. And you’re pretty much the only nanny who Harry didn’t either try and sleep with or try and get deported, so you were an obvious choice.”

Liam’s pretty sure that’s the longest he’s ever heard Zayn speak for. He’s kind of slightly obsessed with the way Zayn’s voice rises and falls with his accent.

“Aaaaand. What happened with Louis?”

“Some not very nice stuff. He, er, we used to. Have a thing, you know?”

“A thing?” Liam repeats, the words not clicking properly.

“We used to fuck on occasion, sort of thing.” Zayn says slowly, eyes narrowed.

“Oh.” The cogs start to turn in Liam’s brain, little asides, laughs from Perrie, Harry’s crack about hiding in closets. Louis hiding in Zayn’s _bed_. Liam feels like an absolute mug.

“Yeah. So, we had a thing, then that party happened, and now we don’t have a thing because turns out he was having a thing with that brunette the whole time. Figures. I’m not good enough to be someone’s actual, out, thing.”

“Okay, can we stop tiptoeing around the words? You’re gay.” Liam announces aloud, as though only realising it himself.

“Yeah.”

“I’m gay.” Liam adds unhelpfully, realising too late it sounds like a come-on, hastily adding “it’s nothing to be ashamed of!”

“Well, duh.” Zayn smiles genuinely, laughing, eyes flicking over to the walls of Liam’s bedroom, where a David Beckham calendar tells him how long there is to go until his next assignment is due. “But yeah. Anyway, so I say to Louis that he can’t have his cake and eat it and he says, it was a shitty cake anyway and the other cake looks so much nicer on his shelf. So I’m pissed off, I miss a few days of school, mum finds out, wants to send me off somewhere, tells me it’s about to get bad at home, I better get out of the way. I fight her on it and the next day my dad gets arrested. And now I’m here.”

Liam swallows, blinks, mulls over this new information for a moment. He feels slightly miffed that his big coming out speech has been overshadowed by Zayn's life drama, but apparently everyone's gaydar is superior to his own.

“And now you’re here,” Liam says weakly, repeating Zayn's final words. He starts when his eyes stray to the clock and he notices that it’s somehow nearly 12pm, and Zayn notices too.

“Sorry, do you have to…?” he asks awkwardly, shifting to collect up the takeaway packages and throw them in the bin, then standing around, waiting for Liam to say something.

“Just, 9am lecture tomorrow,” Liam explains, realising how nerdy he sounds. “It’s cool. I’ll sleep on the floor, by the way. You’ve had a long journey.”

“No, I can’t do that. You’ve already done too much.”

“It’s my jo- I mean, I want to.”

“Fuck it, we’ll both fit in your bed, won’t we?” Zayn says, eying the single bed as though he’s sizing it up in his mind.

“Yeah. Okay. You want to borrow a t-shirt or something to sleep in?” Liam’s already pulled his Batman t-shirt out of one of his drawers and thrown it in Zayn’s general direction before Zayn can respond. He grabs his own PJs and excuses himself, changing in the bathroom and brushing his teeth a little too effectively. He looks at himself in the mirror and realises how hard his heart is racing.

“Chill.” He says to his reflection. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.” Placated, he returns to his room and finds the lights are already out, a lump under the covers telling him Zayn’s already in bed. He locks up and slinks over, a feeling of uneasiness settling in his stomach as he climbs into bed next to Zayn. It’s a squeeze and he doesn’t want to rub up against any part of Zayn so he hovers half-in and half-out of the bed, feeling like if this was in one of those hidden camera reality TV shows, he would be laughing at himself.

“Thank you,” Zayn says quietly, revealing he’s still awake. Liam can practically hear the thoughts mulling in his mind.

“I’m glad you came here. In case you didn’t know. You can stay as long as you like,”

“Thaaaaank you.” Zayn turns onto his side, facing away from Liam, and their arms brush against each other in the process. Liam can’t help but notice how cold Zayn is beside him. Almost like sleeping beside a corpse. He steels himself and shuffles a bit closer, rolling so they’re almost pressed against each other. Zayn seems to take this as some signal to relax and Liam can feel his muscles relax. 

Within minutes Zayn’s sound asleep, but Liam lies awake for minutes that drag into an hour, mind running over thousands of possibilities and consequences before finally settling one arm over Zayn’s side protectively. Feeling the new warmth eminating from Zayn's body, he smiles and falls into a heavy, comfortable sleep - 9am lecture be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well didn't that take a long time? I'm so sorry! If you're reading my other stuff you'll have noticed this week has been a mad flurry of updating after like a 8-week dry period and I'm so, so sorry to keep everyone waiting this long but Uni has been absolutely horrific this year, SO MUCH WORK! But anyway, had a bit of free time this week and hopefully will have this finished by the end of the year? If this isn't updated, feel free to go over to my Tumblr and give me a kick in the ask-box-butt, that tends to motivate me! Thanks for sticking around/joining! Seeyaaaaa xx


	9. Every Morning You Greet Me

When Liam wakes up with a start the next morning, the first thing he notices is that they’ve shifted in their sleep and now Zayn is… well, the best way to describe it would be imitating a koala, limbs wrapped around Liam’s body like it’s a particularly sturdy tree. He lifts his head slowly to check the clock beside his head, heart quickening when he sees it’s already 8:30am. Reluctantly and gently, he peels Zayn’s arms from around him and slides out of bed, collecting a t-shirt and a pair of jeans on his way to the bathroom.

When he pops his head back in a few minutes later to collect his shoes and his books, Zayn’s coiled himself up into a ball. He considers waking him, but in the end scrawls a quick note (not as quick as he’d like – he deliberates for a solid minute on whether to sign it with a kiss, or his name, or “love from”) and leaves it on the pillow beside him.

Liam sits through his lecture in a daze, not taking a single note. He nearly gets run over by the mountain biking society on his way back to halls but manages to get back to his corridor unscathed, pushing the door open gently. His bed’s empty. He winces and steps into his room fully, peering behind the door before flopping back down onto his bed in confusion. It still smelt faintly like Zayn’s house, and cigarette smoke. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. Not a dream.

He hears Zayn’s voice in the hallway, Zayn’s laugh and – Matty? Matty’s laugh. The voices get louder as Zayn says his goodbyes and then the door swings open, Liam hastily rolling onto his side in an attempt to look casually sprawled across the bed that possibly looked more like he was re-enacting a certain scene in Titanic.

“Oh – hey. I was just having a smoke – thanks for the note,” Zayn says, pausing to bury his fists into his pockets.

“You met Matty, then?” Liam asks, and then regrets it, because obviously he met Matty because it was Matty who texted him yesterday. Was it yesterday? It felt like longer.

“Yeah, he’s nice.” Zayn says. “Smokes some shitty menthol cigarettes though. How was your lecture?”

“It was pretty good, yeah. Bit boring.”

“The stuff you’re doing looks really cool. I hope you don’t mind, I read the book that was on the side – but don’t worry, I put a bookmark where you were…”

“Nah, it’s fine. It is really cool to be honest, it’s just not cool at 9am... but what is? I’m free for the rest of the day though,” Liam lies quickly, knowing he has a seminar at 4pm.

“Ahhh,” Zayn says, and then hovers in the doorway awkwardly, at a loss for what to do. “So.”

“Do you want to like, walk around campus or something? Check out the town?” Liam suggests, and Zayn shrugs noncommittally.

“It’s a world away from Bradford, I guarantee.” Liam promises, donning his thickest parka and then looking over at Zayn, thin hoodie zipped up to under his chin. “Here,” he says without thinking, shelling it and pushing it in Zayn’s direction, pulling on another jumper and a jacket. “It’s fucking cold here.”

“You said fucking,” Zayn marvels. “You must be serious.” Liam shrugs awkwardly, the reminder of their past hanging in the air.

Zayn puts the parka on and flips up the hood, pouting at Liam. Liam forces himself to look anywhere but at the contrast between the sharp angular curves that make up Zayn’s face and the fluffy rim of the hood. Instead he stares at Zayn’s hands, swamped in the too-big khaki sleeves, long fingers dangling down. Okay, that’s not safe to stare either. In the end he opts for staring at the ground, and makes quite a good job of it too, staring and staring and staring until they’ve walked all the way out of the building and into the bracing winds.

“So, Matty wants us to go on a night out tonight…” Zayn begins quietly. “I don’t know if that’s what you want to do… I felt rude saying no, but – ”

“Contrary to what previous events may have led you to believe, I actually do like a drink and a boogie.” Liam says.

“A boogie? God, you’re so ancient.” Zayn says, but he bumps him with his hip to indicate he’s joking. Liam ignores the flare of electricity that runs up his body at the contact.

“Yeah…” Liam sighs. “Old soul.”

“It’s cool, except. Like, I still feel like I’m under my mum’s watchful eye.” Zayn admits, not meeting Liam’s stare.

“Huh?”

“Like, you’re so mature, and I just feel like you’re gonna tell on me, because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Zayn, the right thing to do is to keep you safe and you’re gonna be safe with me.” Liam says confidently.

Four hours later when they’re downing drinks in the kitchen with Matty and his girlfriend and three of Liam’s other flatmates, Liam starts to reassess his previous words.

“Soooooooooo.” Matty says, leaning across the table and very nearly spilling a half empty bottle of Archers over his own lap. Liam swipes it and screws the lid back on, looking up at Matty expectantly. “How the fuck did you two meet?”

“Errrrrr…” Liam stalls, sharing a panicked stare with Zayn. (Well, Liam stares panickedly, Zayn is reading the back of a bottle of Tesco Value vodka with his eyebrows furrowed). “We, er...”

“Scouts.” Zayn says. “Liam builds a really great tent.”

“No way! Me and Matty looooooooooove camping.” Matty’s girlfriend Sarah says cheerfully, eyes lighting up. “We have to go on a couples holiday!”

“Mate, let’s just get through the couples night out first.” Liam laughs, then freezes when he realises what he’s just said. He steals a glance at Zayn, who is pouring a drink, seemingly none the wiser. It’s not until they’re walking to the bus stop that they fall into step beside each other, hanging back a little so the others are out of earshot.

“Couples holiday.” Zayn says quietly. “Couples?”

“I’m sorry, it was a leading sentence, like, when the guy at the cinema says “enjoy your film” and you say “you too” and want to die inside,” comes Liam’s quick response that’s been formulating in the back of his mind since he said the dreaded words.

“It’s cool. I get it.”

“You do?”

“Y’know, I used to tell Louis that you fancied me.” Zayn confesses, sounding more than a little drunk now. Liam’s silent, so Zayn goes on. “I thought that maybe someone older, with nicer arms, and a nicer person – maybe that’d make him _see_ me, you know?”

“Yeah.” They can see the lights of the bus pulling up in the distance, but neither of them make a move to catch it, even when they see the figures of their friends gesticulating wildly in their direction. “Niall used to think I fancied you, to be honest.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks.

“To be honest, even I used to think I fancied you. I still might fancy you.”

“Really?” Zayn’s face cracks into a smile and for a second Liam thinks he might actually be about to lean over and kiss him and that feels wrong but also right and he feels so sick and nervous and – oh. Gagging, he grabs at his stomach and keels over, retching onto the damp grass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Been crazy busy with University but I cracked my ribs at a concert at the weekend so now have a lot of time off to rest up so hopefully can do a mass update of everything, I started with this one because a lot of people seem to adore it! Hope this keeps you going for a while ;) xx


	10. I'll Depend On You

“Mate, you are a fucking state.” Zayn’s accent means those words don’t rhyme. Mehhhtt, stet. Liam’s sat on the floor of the bathroom, shuddering, defeated, yet somehow deeply amused by this revelation.

“I didn’t even drink that much.”

“Clearly, you’re a lightweight. Unsurprising really.”

“I worked in a _bar_.”

“You’ll be good at cleaning this up then.”

“At least I won’t have to shampoo the carpet.”

“Oh my god, who knew that there was special shampoo for carpets?! I was _hungover,_ man.” They dissolve into laughter and Liam coughs a few times. “You done?

“Yeah I think so. This is weird.”

“What?”

“You, looking after me. The shoe is on the other table,”

“…what?”

“The table… shoes.”

“Right, bedtime for you.” Zayn squats down and hoists Liam up gently, guiding him the few steps across to his bed, where he belly flops atop the sheets the way he’s seen Zayn do a hundred times.

“Night, Zayn.”

“Wait, Li. Before you puked, you were saying…”

Liam’s already asleep.

* * * 


“I feel rough as fuck.” Zayn elongates the swear. Foooook. His voice is rough. Liam looks up from his cocoon of blankets to where Zayn’s sat.

“Did you sleep at all?” Liam’s voice sounds even worse, vocal chords showing their damage from the retching last night.

“Not really,”

“I’m sorry I commandeered the bed.”

“It’s your bed.”

“You’re the guest.” They stammer through the pleasantries. The kitchen door slams loudly.

“Lads! Going on a Maccies run, want anything?” Matty’s banging on the door.

“Hash browns… and my dignity.” Liam calls, his voice raggedy.

“You decent?” Matty pops his head round the door before they can respond and a look of disgust passes his features. “Smells like we’re in Pete Doherty’s stomach in here, open a window. Anyone got a fiver?”

“Me,” Liam feebly points at the pile of change accumulating on his bookshelf.

“Sweet. What the fuck happened to you two last night?” Matty laughs. Liam groans and rolls over. “Wait, _did_ the fuck happen to you last night?”

“Mate.” Zayn says. Matty puts up his hands and grabs a few pound coins.

“I will be back… with potato products.”

Liam just grunts in response. The door shuts with a slam and he winces.

“Drink some water,” Zayn suggests, tossing a half-empty bottle from Liam’s desk. It’s been there around three days but as Liam gulps it down it tastes like the best thing he’s ever drank.

“Ugh. Better. You alright? Sorry about last night.”

“It’s okay.”

“Did we, uh…” Liam’s so confused about what happened. He vaguely remembers confessing his feelings, but he dreamt about the night and now his memories are tinged with this weird _thing,_ like fantasy and reality colliding.

“We just talked.” Zayn says.

“Oh, good.” Liam replies quickly. Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Good?”

“I mean, good, that we talked. Talking is… good.”

“Yeah.”

Liam buries his head under his pillow, limp from a night of tossing and turning.

“Wanna get some fresh air?” Zayn says.

“Let me brush my teeth.” Liam runs his tongue across his molars and shivers. “And maybe, shower.”

In half an hour, they’re up, dressed and walking across campus, gratefully munching their Egg McMuffins, sharing a large milkshake that is surprisingly having a positive effect on their hangovers. Zayn’s arms swing awkwardly by his sides. Liam’s never seen him so uncomfortable in his own skin. Liam finds himself leading Zayn to the lakes near the business school. It’s quiet there – the students who sunned themselves there during Freshers in September forsaking tanning for the library.

“Wanna sit?”

“The grass is kind of wet.” Zayn points out. “Look, Li, about last night.”

“I am so embarrassed.” Liam says.

“Don’t be. I. Erm. Wait a second. Just, let me…” He leans in.

They kiss. It’s a little awkward and Liam’s conscious he’s still hungover and he probably tastes slightly eggy and Zayn’s lips taste like sweet, artificial strawberries and his stubble is tickling his face.

Liam’s hands find themselves reaching for Zayn, but he’s already pulling back, long lashes fluttering open to gauge Liam’s reaction.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Liam leans this time and their lips crash together awkwardly, but it’s funny, and they’re laughing, fingers twining, birds chirping in the trees around them.

Sometimes, the story doesn’t end in an epic way. It ends with a hangover on a weekday and two people who finally ended up on the same page and maybe even a fried breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH my god. I am so sorry this took like a year! Being in my third year of uni did not lend itself to free time for writing! Hope this was a satisfactory ending for anyone who stuck around and waited it out! Let me know if you want an epilogue and thank you for humouring me in my weird fantasy about the Sound of Music that got way way out of hand. xx

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So a few things: I feel weird about looking into the Malik family for personal details like ages/professions/etc so literally /IT IS JUST THEIR NAMES I AM USING/. Please don't share this with the people involved, this is a fictional story based on their public personas. Please comment if you enjoyed, it means a lot to me!


End file.
